


just a little bit more

by dachenabritta



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Aftercare, Alcohol, Autoerotic Asphyxiation, BDSM, Boss/Employee Relationship, Choking, Dom/sub, F/M, Leather Play, Office, Power Dynamics, Power Imbalance, degrading, happy hour, switch - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-04
Updated: 2020-10-04
Packaged: 2021-03-07 18:48:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,296
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26812399
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dachenabritta/pseuds/dachenabritta
Summary: "People can casually say they’re a top or bottom. Or a weak top and power bottom. It’s written on Tinder profiles. He’s been at professional lunches where co-workers just mention it.A relationship that involves BDSMspecificallyis a little different."
Relationships: Kylo Ren/Rey, Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Comments: 10
Kudos: 98





	just a little bit more

**Author's Note:**

  * For [dankobah](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dankobah/gifts).



> Luna is 22 and we talk about kinky shit ALL THE TIME, which made me want to roll up my sleeves and really attempt some harder stuff. I'm not very natural when i comes to smut but I had a great time writing this. Luna came up with like 50% of this fic so you can thank her for the EXTREMELY hot scenes, since they were her idea. 
> 
> Enjoy and happy birthday!!!
> 
> ~Chaney ~

It started small. Microscopic, almost.

Just a text message here and there. The occasional two am call. If they were _truly_ bored, then they might video chat from the comforts of their own home. 

Nothing physical. Ever. 

Just passing memos of control and subordination. Just enough to get the blood pumping. 

__

But menial things such as demanding messages and explicit pictures soon became not _enough._

__

Rey’s small cubicle is on the fourteenth floor of Coruscant Trade inc, where most, if not all the accountants work. Her desk is fifty six inches long. Her monitor is twenty-four inches wide. There are approximately fifteen sticky notes lined across her cubicle wall and another nine stuck to the phone she hardly touches. 

Spreadsheets are opened and untouched as well, Rey instead favoring her cellphone that she grips with near ferocity. There’s a fear building within her, a fear of being caught, but it translates to something much warmer and dizzier than mere anxiety. 

The text lights up her screen with instructions. Sixteenth floor, hallway at the left corner, second door on the right. 

Rey smoothes her skirt, rising from her creaky office chair and grabs a random folder. If anyone stops her on the way, she’ll just say she’s running a file to one of VP’s. No biggie. 

But no one questions her. Or rides in the elevator with her. The sixteenth floor is obsolete when she walks past the copper doors. 

_Perfect_. 

Following the thorough instructions, Rey glances to the closet door on the right, past the bolted electrical one. Her hand slightly trembles when she turns the handle, letting the darkness envelope her when she enters the cramped space. 

Rey is not alone. 

He must have sent her the text _from_ the closet, to avoid any suspicion. Timing can be a godsend but it’s also the path to hell if used incorrectly. 

“You’ve followed _all_ my instructions, correct?”

The tremble turns to a chill when his voice echoes in the confined space. It’s like a dark and mutated drug that Rey cannot get enough of. 

“Yes. I did everything you requested, B--” 

She stops herself short. This time is his.

“-- _Master.”_

Ben chuckles quietly and grasps either side of her hips, one large hand reaching for the bottom of her pencil skirt and the other remaining on her chiffon blouse. He pulls the hem clear up to her stomach, the breeze of cool air making Rey’s breath hitch.

He now lets both hands roam her legs, fingers seeing what eyes cannot. His chuckling continues as he traces the lines of her stockings and garter belt. 

“Good girl. These are the Wolford stockings, right?”

He hasn’t given her permission to speak but he can’t see her nod. All Rey can do is squeak. 

Ben notices her compliancy. 

“Your training is really paying off, pet. Look at you, not even saying a single word when I touch you or when I ask you something. Your throat must be _burning_ right now.”

_Yes, yes, please, it’s on fire and the flames are too hot, please--_

“It must be rather-” he suddenly dives a finger into her entrance, bare from his instructions, “-- _torturous._ ”

The manila folder she was holding crashes to the floor. Rey could care less. 

Her soft moans are the only response she can give him. Rey has not been allowed to touch herself since Monday. And it’s _Thursday._

The hand that was on her waist now encircles her throat as he adds a finger too quickly and picks up to a brutal pace. Rey doesn’t know what to grab since she can’t see the surroundings, so she claws at his suit jacket. She’s probably ruining hours of ironing some local dry cleaner slaved over.

Ben continues, not curling or adding any more fingers. His grip becomes tighter at the sides of her throat, the darkness becoming splotchy in her view. It makes the sensation even better, the climax she desperately craves becoming more and more of a reality the harder he holds. She needs a little more, just enough to push her over the edge, and she’s been _so_ good, following all his instructions--

“If you think you’re coming this afternoon, think again pet.”

With a whine erupting from Rey, he completely withdraws. Her clawing is to a point of almost tearing when he readjusts her skirt, the knit fabric covering her completely bare ass. She’s still trying to regain a regular breathing pattern when Ben spins them so Rey is further into the closet and his back is to the door. 

The slight sound of him slipping and catching himself emits from the darkness. 

“ _What the_ …” 

Ben bends down to pick up the tantalizing object.

“Is this...a folder? Did you bring this with you?”

His voice is flat enough that Rey knows he is asking her as an employee, rather than his pet. 

“Uh, yea. In case anyone stopped me and asked where I was going.”

Ben remains quiet, the folder most likely sagging in his grip. He sighs. 

“Wait here for a couple of minutes. I stopped the feed for this hallway, so you should be safe.”

He places the folder where he thinks her hand might be, Rey feeling the sharp edge and grabbing it back. 

“We...can’t do this here anymore, Rey. At least not as often.” 

She nods but then remembers he still can’t see her. “I agree.” 

The risks in the office were usually a turn on. And for months, they have been. 

But if anything, and they mean _anything,_ was to slip out, it could potentially risk both of their careers. 

“How about your place? Saturday?” Rey adjusts her clothes quickly. She says the words quickly so their weight is not as heavy.

He opens the door, yellow light filling the tiny space. She now has an open and candid view of what’s become of Ben Solo. 

He steps out and his mouth hangs a bit open, trying not to be shocked at her suggestion. Things have gotten to a point where certain fears have fizzled for Rey, so she tries to play it cool, leaning forward with the insurance of the security cameras turned off. It’s just a peck, something to hold her over until she sees Ben again, but he turns it into something more heated and dangerous. 

Like always. 

He grabs the small of her back, deepening the kiss and brings her into the hallway. If anyone was to see them here, together, an entire world would be flipped upside down. 

“Saturday is perfect.”

He leaves, trailing up to the twentieth floor while Rey stands alone, waiting for a clock she cannot hear. 

__

  
  


A relationship that involves dominant and subordinate traits is quite common. 

People can casually say they’re a top or bottom. Or a weak top and power bottom. It’s written on Tinder profiles. He’s been at professional lunches where co-workers just _mention_ it. 

A relationship that involves BDSM _specifically_ is a little different. 

And they are both neck deep in it. 

After almost four months of just talking to then two months of _actual_ contact, their shared collection is enough to make a porn star drop their jaw. 

Ben doesn’t have a dungeon or anything, even in any of his extra guest rooms. Rey’s apartment is so minuscule, she doesn’t even have enough storage for regular things. 

Everything is kept in plastic tubs. 

It’s _extremely_ sexy. 

Every morning for the past two months, Ben would wake up, hop into the shower, shave, coiff his hair, get dressed and then rifle through one of the three bins. It just became a task. He stopped getting boners a couple weeks in. 

They did the usuals. Whatever they’d seen previously in porn or read in a book. 

Before, it was an entire world that they both had watched from afar and _only_ watched. 

That is, until Ben Solo met someone of the name _desertflower223_ on the anonymous kink website that pairs you with local freaks _just like yourself!_

And then they both thought after only four days of talking to send pictures of their _faces._

Imagine Ben’s surprise when he _recognized_ her face and _she recognized his._

And there’s one slight factor that makes this situation inherently and a thousands time worse:

The last time Ben saw her face, it was in his office. 

And she was crying. 

Because Ben almost _fired_ this girl. 

Telling his VP’s and the CBO that the only reason he didn’t was from out-right pity would make Ben appear as weak. Feeble. Not the man who should be running a staff consisted of over three thousand nationwide. 

Instead, Ben deletes the HR file. 

Power dynamics are important when it comes to safe BDSM dynamics. If an individual feels dehumanized in a way that is _not_ sexy or a turn-on, an entire relationship could be turned rotten at the snap of a crop. 

Like a boss sleeping with an accountant.

But as always, Ben could not help himself. 

He made her wear the plugs and vibrators. Bound her legs in rope under her skirts and slacks. One time, she wore nipple clamps for nearly _two_ hours. They weren't sure how safe it was, but Rey insisted. 

And they did all of this _whilst in the office._

He would have her in his office. Sometimes the private bathroom on the twelfth floor. The supply closets were becoming more and more frequent though. 

Rey said she did not want to be seen driving to his condo, or walking up his steps. For safety reasons. But Ben argued that having kinky sex in the middle of a bustling building in the heart of San Francisco was about ten times worse for her safety. 

You can probably guess who won _that_ little debacle. 

So when Ben heard her quietly say “ _how about your place?_ ” his stomach did quite the flip. 

_Saturday_ his mind repeats over and over again. It’s the only thing he thinks about this morning, skipping out on the routine dig ‘round the plastic tub. 

_Saturday._

__

Since it’s Friday and happy hour is starting at Pabu’s, Rey and her team decide to go out. 

They arrive at 3 pm, their lunch break hopefully extending to their weekend break. No one really wants to show back up to their cubicle wasted and tripping over their shoes. 

Cocktail glasses clink together in a toast to the weekend, Rose sitting to her right, Finn across from Rose and Jess across from Rey. Everyone takes a large gulp, Rey’s IPA slightly burning due to its acidity. 

Happy hours consist of _one_ topic and one topic _only_ : 

Office gossip. 

When you work forty hours a week with the same people dealing with the same shit, you ought to grow bored. True, they all do have lives outside of their glass cage but never enough time to pursue a passion or art. 

Well, _Rey_ certainly has a passion she’s chasing, but not a single soul at this booth knows of such. 

She tunes out for most of the conversation, still reeling from yesterday’s...encounter. Rey hopes to any god that will listen that she made the right decision. 

“...don’t you think so, Rey?” Jess says with brows raised. 

“Uh--” Rey has no clue what they’ve been talking about. Her mind has been elsewhere. “What do I think about what?”

Rose giggles and takes a sip of her Cosmo. “He literally puts pomade in his hair every morning, I swear. And those shoes? Don’t even get me _started._ They scream “ _I’m so deep in the closet, even my momma can’t find me!_ ’”

Everyone, including Finn who is undoubtedly _out_ of the closet and happily engaged, is set into a laughing fit, Rey smiling since she still has no clue who they’re talking about. 

“Could someone like...say again who we’re talking about?” 

Rose wipes a fake tear from her eye while Rey _stupidly_ goes to take another gulp of beer. 

“Our dumb ass boss Ben Solo, of course.”

Rey spits her beer out and is sent into a coughing frenzy. 

“Rey! Are you okay?” Finn asks, reaching across the table to slap her back alongside Rose. 

“I-I’m” -- _wheeze--_ “f-fine. I’m fine.”

“I take it you disagree with us then?” Jess asks, wiping specks of the beer off her face. “Or did your drink just go down the wrong pipe.”

There are a multitude of things about Ben Solo that Rey disagrees with. The list is quite horrifying, actually. 

But him being gay? 

Not a chance. 

“I guess I’d peg him for bi if anything, really,” Rey says between coughs, “but I’m not sure just because he combs his hair or can afford nice shoes makes him _homosexual.”_

The peanut gallery debates her point for a minute until everyone nods and gives each other looks. 

“Rey’s right,” Finn retorts, “maybe we should keep our gossip to who’s slacking off the most and which co-workers are banging.”

And like the idiot Rey is, Finn says this all the while she attempts her second sip of beer. 

__

  
  


The weekend does not sneak up on him. Rather, it feels like Friday took _eons_ to get through. 

He sent a quick message with his address and time to meet. The last time they went out _not_ at work was to dinner weeks ago, to a spot that they knew no one would recognize them at. 

Ben’s cooked Italian for them tonight. He hopes she’ll like it. 

But besides dinner, Ben doesn't really have a plan. Usually, hard-core doms do, every reaction and sensation mapped out _days_ before anything happens but his brain is still too flustered from the fact that _Rey will be in his house. In real life. And not in a public place._

Three quiet knocks sound from the door. Ben almost trips on his shoes to answer it. 

Rey stands there, a cardigan over her black body con dress, boots to match and an accent belt around her waist. He feels slightly overdressed in his button up and work trousers, but he’s the host after all.

“Hi!” She pipes out. Good to know she’s just as nervous as he is.

All he does is stare at her. She’s especially pretty tonight. More so than during office hours. 

_Say something, you moron._

“Uh, Italian!” Ben almost barks, startling her. “I made Italian.” 

Her brow just quirks. “May I come in, Ben?”

The embarrassment is making his face pinken. This is _not_ how this night was supposed to start. 

“My a-apologies, yes, come in.”

She takes off her boots when he closes the door, revealing either stockings or pantyhose behind her dress. 

Ben can’t wait to find out which one. 

Rey ooo’s and ahh’s over his modern and spacious condo. He hired some interior designer years ago to transform his bachelor pad to something not horrendous, and it’s only paying off now. 

They eat together and chat with as much casualness as two people in a secret BDSM relationship can. 

She likes the chicken parm and nearly inhales it. They split an entire bottle of Pinot.

Ben has no idea how this is supposed to work. When does he turn on the whole _Master_ thing? Should she vocalize and consent before he makes any sort of move? 

None of the smut books prepared for post _dinner date_ sex. 

It’s dark out by the time their food is cleared, Rey yawning as he rises to clear the dishes. Her eyes dart from the table up to him, then back to her lap where her fingers twiddle atop the oak surface. 

“This might be kind of weird, but I’m rather...tired.”

He almost drops the dishes into the sink where they would have undoubtedly smashed to smithereens. 

“Um, that’s--”

_Again, what do you say? What do you do? Would this all just count as a date then?_

Ben clears his throat. “You can leave any time you want, Rey. I’m not holding you hostage.”

She keeps her eyes trained to the table. 

“Actually, I was wondering if I could go take a nap or something? So that I can stay up later.”

_Oh._

“That’s completely fine.” He rolls up his sleeves to his elbows, Rey's chest heaving when she glances at his forearms. “My bedroom is upstairs, at the end of the left hallway.” 

Rey nods, and he _swears_ there’s a slight blush staining her cheeks. She doesn’t say anything else as Ben’s eyes follow her up the stairs until her black dress and stockings disappear. 

They could be pantyhose too. Ben hasn’t ruled it out. 

He wraps up washing the dishes, sautering back over to the dining area when he realizes she’s left her phone at the table. Even if she’s just trying to nap, Rey might need it if someone calls her or she wants to set an alarm. Ben taps the screen to check the time. She went up only fifteen minutes ago. 

The stairs are carpeted, as well as the entirety of the second floor, Ben’s sock clad feet quietly padding towards the bedroom. He doesn’t hear anything or a snoring of sorts, so he pushes the cracked door open to expect Rey to be resting against his Egyptian cotton comforter. 

Ben’s grip on her phone loosens when he catches sight of her. 

Rey is on the bed. 

She is not resting. 

She’s lounging against his mountain of pillows, a mesh black bodysuit with appliqué floral patterns covering hardly enough, her hair tugged free of the clip that was keeping it up and ruby red lipstick replacing the light lipgloss she was wearing. And she isn’t wearing stockings _or_ pantyhose.

Ben has _never_ seen her like this. Not even the photos they’ve exchanged. 

“Where’s your bravada today, _Master_?” 

Ben can only gulp, still frozen in the doorway. And she’s right, what the _hell_ is happening to him?

She crooks a finger to beckon him and Ben answers her call like a sailor to a siren. Rey motions for him to stand in front of her crossed legs, crossing her arms when he does. 

“For someone who’s literally made me come with _four_ stories separating us, I really thought you’d be making some demands right about now. You didn't even have me sit and eat with a plug in.”

“I-I don’t--”

Her hands rises, her pointer finger pointed. “Did I say you could speak yet?”

_Oh._

HIs breath hitches. Rey does not miss it. 

_Oh no._

“You’re going to sit exactly where I am once I get up. Got it?” 

He can only nod and crawl on top of the bed, Rey rolling gracefully off the side. Once Ben’s settled in the same spot, she looks down to see her phone still in his grasp. 

“I see you found my little clue,” she says, leaning over and plucking it from his hand. Rey moves over to the front of the bed, now reiterating the position _he_ was in only moments ago. She casually unlocks it with a swipe and begins to scroll through some app, her attention completely removed from the man literally dripping in desire. 

Ben should say something. It’s like he’s invisible. Is this how it feels for her? 

Because it’s making him harder than usual. 

It gets even worse when Rey distractingly begins to suck on a few of her fingers until she’s practically giving oral to her hand, still scrolling on her screen. The sounds are lewd and over-the-top, the sucking sound going straight to Ben’s blood. 

She’s sucking on her pinkie when she _finally_ looks back up to him. 

“What?” 

He knows the rules and if Rey is playing with what’s the cards they’ve dealt, Ben knows better _not_ to respond. 

He just shakes his head. 

“ _Good,”_ Rey coos, tossing her phone to the comforter and climbing atop it. “Looks like _you_ might be trained too. Even if you don’t know it.”

Her tiny hands reach for his belt and Ben lifts his hips to allow her to thread it out and from under him. Completely expecting her to go for the zipper too, Ben just sits back and closes his eyes, ready for a fairly mild case of cowgirl with some degrading mixed in. 

Ben does not expect to feel the leather go _over_ his head and around his neck. 

“What--” his eyes snap open to just see a grin and lust-painted face. Her hand quickly comes up to cover his mouth. 

“Use the safeword if you need it but I’m going to try something a little different today.” 

Her hand drops slowly. “Understood?”

Ben nods. 

“Speak.”

He takes another shuddering breath. “Y-yes!”

“Yes, _what?”_

Her tone is slowly but surely awakening something within Ben.

“Yes, Mistress!” 

She laughs at his sputtering, taking both of his wrists and placing them on either side on his torso, palms facing the ceiling. 

“Keep those there. If you touch, I leave.”

Ben nods, her grin even wider than before as her hands return to the belt. At an agonizingly slow pace, she moves the buckle closer and closer to his throat, the threat of impending suffocation so reachable Ben can _taste_ the leather. 

Rey is straddling him, clad in nothing but her lingerie and lipstick while Ben lies fully dressed minus his belt. It must be a dynamic Rey wants to keep up. Or not. Maybe _she’ll_ be completely dressed next time, maybe in pajamas, sipping coffee in his kitchen, while he’s naked and writhing on the tiled floor, begging for her to rub _anything_ against his cock--

Cold metal hits his skin along with the leather, knocking Ben from his fantasy. 

“Looks like you were off thinking some _very_ dirty thoughts. I do that a bit too, you know?”

One hand grips the end of the belt while the other goes to his mop of curls. 

“It’s usually at work, if I’m being honest,” Rey sighs, “When you’ve been tied up in one of our standard issued chairs as many times as _I_ have, it’s hard not to think some rather dirty thoughts every time you take a seat.” 

She pulls a _tad_ tighter, Ben’s breath becoming shorter. 

“It’s mortifying to know what you’ve done with your boss. The things you’ve said, the things you’ve done. It would make any girl _cry_ at the mere thought; the threat of blackmail constantly looming over your head.”

Ben groans when her hand claws at his scalp, his neck craning back while his throat is pulled forward with the leather. 

“But you know what _Mr. Solo?_ ” 

He gets harder when she says it in that _tone._

“I tell myself each and every day, _hey,_ this guy _could_ have fired you for the dumbest reason. A co-worker discovering you had porn open on your work computer is stupid but literally a fireable offense. Hell, even _HR_ told him to.”

She must discover the growing tent behind her barely covered ass as she begins to grind softly. It’s not not enough to tip him over the edge but it’s adding to the sensation of losing air. 

“But he didn’t. He saw your tears and he _didn’t_.” 

The belt is straining under her touch.

_Ben_ is straining under her touch. 

“That’s why I like you. You’re kind, even if you don’t realize it. You hide behind the big mister boss man to get some kind of kick. But do you want to know what _I_ think?”

He nods only slightly since he can hardly feel his neck anymore. 

Rey comes in close until they’re cheek to cheek, her breath warm in his ear. 

“I think you’re secretly a sweet, insecure slut who just wants to be broken. Just like I am.” Rey grinds down _much_ more forcibly, the belt about to snap. “Isn’t that right, _pet?_ ”

Ben comes so hard in his pants, his jaw drops in a low growl and the entire world blacks out. 

But that might be due to the fact that no oxygen has reached his brain in almost three minutes. 

It rides out in waves, which feels impossible. It's unlike any orgasm that he's ever had before. The ripples settle when more and more air floods his throat, slight aftershocks making him jerk and wiggle Rey who's still atop him.

She undoes the belt and removes it, laying her head down onto his pounding heart. He’ll need to clean up soon enough but for now, just _now,_ all Ben wants to do is lie with her and _breathe._

It’s a while before either of them can talk, the elephant in the room standing quietly in the corner, awaiting one of them to begin. 

“That...wasn’t too much, was it?” Her voice is back to it’s feeble nature, the voice Ben _usually_ recognizes. 

He doesn’t know how to answer at first, if he’s honest. They’ve never thought about switching roles. Neither of them have ever expressed it, even when they listed out specific kinks and no-go’s. Ben knows he never would have been as brave as Rey to just go ahead and _dive._

Ben moves his stagnant arms and wraps her closer. “Not at all. It was, um--”

Ben gulps. 

“That was really hot, actually.”

She lifts off his chest to showcase a major grin. Rey is quite literally glowing, even in the dim lamplit room.

“Really? I didn’t know if it was weird if--”

Ben shuts her up with a kiss. That always works.  
  


“Would you like to be my girlfriend?”

Her breath hitches. While she would think this was out of the blue, Ben has been _itching_ to ask her for weeks now. Possibly even _months._

Her shock passes, the smile returning. 

“Took you long enough to ask.”

Their world suddenly becomes macro; nothing is little anymore.   
  
  
  



End file.
